by Saul Garnell
Kenji frowned. “Oh, I see. But I had sent you a dinner request hoping I could entertain you this evening. I think the work will not suffer if you have dinner first.”
“Will the whole team be joining?” Sumeet asked with care. “I don’t want to interfere with anyone’s domestic life. I know how important it is.”
Kenji waved a hand. “Just the two of us. Team dinners only get approved for senior vice presidents and higher. I applied for approval before you arrived. Everything is within regulation.”
“Well, then, I suppose that’s fine.”
“Do you have any problems eating cooked fish?” Kenji asked nervously.
“Cooked? No, I’m non-vegetarian. So I eat all types of meat and fish.”
“Yes?” Kenji said with greater enthusiasm. “Boiled fish...very tasty!”
“That sounds fine,” Sumeet said, while getting his desktop ready to leave. “Just give me a moment.”
He set his work to standby and grabbed his jacket. Kenji waited patiently with hands neatly folded together. Once ready, they boarded a lift which ascended to the restaurant and entertainment sector.
The doors opened to an onrushing of mixed smells, sounds, and lights. Throngs of people walking in every direction, and Sumeet was at a loss where to go. Kenji tugged on his arm lightly and they walked for a few minutes past a myriad of different eateries. Every imaginable choice of food was on display and Kenji explained about the fierce competition that drove operators to create outlandish store fronts.
Stopping for a moment, Sumeet gazed at some Monster-Koi swimming in an artificial pond. They glistened in the water. And if their striking neon colors were not enough to give away their gene-altered heritage, then their two-meter-long size certainly did.
Sumeet came close and glanced at one particular fish. Without realizing it, his interest triggered the Koi’s feeding instinct. Coming out of the water, it grabbed hold of the tank’s lip with its two mutated pectoral fins. Sumeet stepped back abruptly as the fish leaned over, opening and closing its oval mouth with anticipation.
Kenji laughed. “Too big! That fish is not tasty,” he said and led Sumeet by the arm.
Further down the gallery, they arrived at a restaurant called “No Escape.” It didn’t look exotic to Sumeet, but to get attention they displayed a large row of what he assumed were transparent cooking pots. Inside each pot was a heating element that made the water boil fiercely.
Kenji nodded at and pointed at the pots, which billowed vapor up toward the vaulted ceiling. “You see,” he said happily. “Boiled fish restaurant. Very tasty!”
Sumeet gazed at the pots disquietedly, and then followed Kenji inside. The two were soon seated in a private booth, and Sumeet searched around for a flexi screen system where he could peruse the menu. But the table was made of solid wood. Using knuckles, he rapped it a few times to produce a solid drub.
“What drink would you like?” Kenji asked. “Beer, whiskey? They also have nice tea.”
“Tea would be fine,” Sumeet answered and then took a warm hand towel that had been placed before him.
Kenji looked at the counter area and barked out loudly. “Ocha Futatsu Kudasai!”
Sumeet smiled and looked on with fascination as a flathead came by and placed two cups on the table with great care. They were made from dark thick clay, and formed rough, crooked shapes. Steam rose from the cups and produced a wonderful smell that Sumeet found irresistible. He took a long sip and showed relief.
“If you don’t mind,” Kenji asked, “I will order for us both. The boiled fish is fine, yes?”
“Uhm, yes, of course,” Sumeet said.
“Nininmae Onegaishimasu!” He barked toward the bar again.
A rhythmic response of the robotic staff could be heard echoing in the background. Ordering finished, Kenji looked on contently but did not speak. He just stared blankly at Sumeet quietly. In typical Japanese fashion, he didn’t force the conversation in any particular direction. Instead Kenji politely waited for his guest to speak first.
“The work is going well, don’t you think?”
“Yes,” Kenji replied.
Sounds of mechanical preparation could be heard coming from the kitchen. It seemed loud because there were few people in the restaurant and Sumeet looked around curiously. He also noticed that a great deal of wood and bamboo had been used to construct its interior, but Kenji didn’t make any effort to highlight anything of interest. Perhaps he was just shy, Sumeet thought.
“Have you been with Chindo a long time?” Sumeet finally asked.
“Just five years,” Kenji said.
“Oh, a long while, then. I’ve been with Chindo just under one.”
“And before that?” Kenji asked respectfully.
“Well, I worked for a few years at a financial research institute in Pune. However, I took a break and got my masters at IIM. After which I joined Chindo.”
Kenji simply nodded in response.
“And you, Mr. Ishii? Where did you study?”
“I studied at Tokyo University. But...not such a good school these days.”
Sumeet waved his hands and put off the compliment. “Not so. Tokyo University has had a long and prestigious history.”
Kenji smiled again and nodded. “In the past I think it was a very good school. But now we are like Harvard University. I think I am very lucky to get my job at Chindo.”
“We are all lucky,” Sumeet said, laughing humbly. “It is the most prestigious investment firm in Asia now. Perhaps even in the world.”
“Yes, I think so.”
A waitress crawler approached their table bringing several objects, a large clear pot, a pitcher of water, and some tofu on a large plate. It also brought an opaque ceramic container whose purpose was unclear to Sumeet. Ornate metal arms unexpectedly rose from a central table flap. Sumeet leaned back a bit, unsure about what was happening.
“Have you ever had fish cooked this way?” Kenji asked.
Sumeet looked up. “Um, no. Never like this.”
The crawler inserted the clear pot into the metal arms and filled it with water. It then poured in several tofu bricks, which settled to the bottom. Lastly, it opened the opaque ceramic container and pulled out a netted bag of small fish-like creatures. Somewhat long and thin, they wiggled frantically as it transferred them to the clear pot, where they quickly found a new home.
Sumeet had a concerned look. “Not that I am squeamish, but are those the fish we’ll eat?”
“Yes, but not yet. We need to cook them first.”
Sumeet’s face contorted to express his discomfort. “Okay, but how?” Sumeet asked, peering into the pot where fish wriggled in every direction.
As Sumeet looked on with fascination, the crawler attached what looked like a silicon-based heating element to an appendage on the pot’s holding clamps. The element began to glow and started to wrap itself slowly into the water. Sensing heat, the fish swam down toward the bottom of the pot.
“You said we are lucky,” Kenji said.
Sumeet looked up. “Hm, what?”
“You said before that we are all lucky.”
“Yes, Sumeet nodded. “At Chindo”
“Sometimes...,” Kenji looked on sadly. “Sometimes we Japanese are not lucky. The work for us is very hard.”
Kenji altered his expression and grimaced a little. Sumeet didn’t know how to respond. He was unsure if Kenji’s expression reflected his true feelings. Dealing with the Japanese in person was somewhat new, and Sumeet just waited to see where the conversation would go.
“We join a company and then many people want that for a long time,” Kenji said.
Sumeet nodded. “You mean lifelong employment?”
“No, we no longer have that. Many years ago, yes. Now we want to stay and do interesting work. But...” Kenji looked to the side and used his finger in the air to reference something in his filter. “But here in Japan the work is hard and we have so many regulations to comply with.”
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Sumeet sympathized. “But the regs have made things better, I thought. You have more time to spend with family and friends.”
Kenji shook his head and took a sip from his teacup. “Many years ago, people believed the law would do this. But it has not worked out so well.”
Momentarily turning his attention to the cooking pot, Sumeet said, “I don’t understand.”
The water was beginning to bubble, and showed little beads of steam rising from the heat element. The fish were clearly unhappy and moved away.
“The Japanese have many bad habits,” Kenji said when Sumeet’s attention returned.
“Like what?”
Kenji frowned slightly. “Many people don’t make good use of time. Some go home, but many go and play games. Some go to a cafe and just continue work.” Kenji looked at the fish for a moment. “Many just go out drinking with their coworkers.”
“Well, maybe things aren’t perfect, but the personal time is there. It’s one major step, don’t you think?”
Kenji nodded.
“It would probably be good to work on education and awareness. The Japanese people need to learn the value of family and personal life.”
“Yes, I agree,” Kenji said. “But the family...some think it is a...” Kenji looked up a word again. “Victim. Yes, a victim of the system. Very few people bother to marry and have children. Our population continues to decline.”
“India seems to be riding out that storm fairly well,” Sumeet responded. “I can’t imagine what it is like to be in a country where the most precious resource simply dwindles away.”
Kenji did not say anything for a moment. “We try to...” Kenji searched for the right word. “...to drown our sorrows with work. Is that the right way to say?”
“Yes,” Sumeet said, looking up. “It is the right way to say, but not the right thing to do.”
Kenji bobbed his head happily, but did not answer. His eyes seemed to look off into space. Sumeet took another sip of his tea and gazed at the fish again. They seemed to now exhibit different behavior. Sensing the increasing heat, they swam at the bottom of the pot, very close to the tofu. Kenji’s attention focused on the fish.
“See!” he urged. “The fish! Watch!” He pointed with his index finger, careful not to make contact.
Sumeet gazed with apprehension as the fish began to frantically swim about in a vain attempt to escape their impending doom.
“Isn’t this cruel?” Sumeet asked.
Kenji did not reply. Instead, both looked on as something interesting occurred. The fish, swimming close to the tofu, noticed that its temperature was less than the surrounding water. With a natural burrowing instinct, they began to drive themselves into the fleshy soft tofu until no fish could be seen. The water started boiling at a faster pace, and Kenji just smiled for the next few minutes while Sumeet looked on anxiously.
“Now we can eat,” he finally said and looked over to get the server’s attention.
The crawler returned with various plates and serving utensils. It removed the heating element and scooped out the tofu on a small cutting board, careful to keep the bricks intact. Once each brick was neatly separated from the group, it was cut into small bite-sized pieces. The crawler placed a plate in front of each, and Sumeet could now see clearly parts of the fish were exposed by the cut sides of tofu. He no longer had any real appetite, but he looked on at Kenji who happily took his chopsticks and placed the tofu in his mouth. Kenji was oblivious to Sumeet’s revulsion and chewed with deep satisfaction.
“Boiled fish,” he said, smiling. “Very tasty!”
Chapter 8—What Is Natural
Labour is, in the first place, a process in which both man and Nature participate, and in which man of his own accord starts, regulates, and controls the material reactions between himself and Nature. He opposes himself to Nature as one of her own forces, setting in motion arms and legs, head and hands, the natural forces of his body, in order to appropriate Nature’s productions in a form adapted to his own wants. By thus acting on the external world and changing it, he at the same time changes his own nature. He develops his slumbering powers and compels them to act in obedience to his sway. We are not now dealing with those primitive instinctive forms of labour that remind us of the mere animal. An immeasurable interval of time separates the state of things in which a man brings his labour-power to market for sale as a commodity, from that state in which human labour was still in its first instinctive stage. We presuppose labour in a form that stamps it as exclusively human.
—Karl Marx
“This board session is extraordinary, and minutes are now being taken,” announced Chairman Njord Cao as he addressed the quorum. “I think you all know the general situation. We are in play. Hangzhou Qiandaohu is publicly bidding, and others will certainly follow. But it goes without saying that all actions must adhere to our fiduciary duties. Every step from this point will affect the future of Takahana, and I must ask all of you to consider every step from this point on with great care.”
Chairman Cao looked at the thirty one directors of Takahana Nanites. Undoubtedly the board was exhausted. Even with filter masks on, he still made out grimaced scowls and tense jaw lines indicative of apprehensive tooth grinding. Since the takeover bid was announced, the strain was clearly manifesting itself physically.
“Now let’s not discuss how things could have been done differently. We need to look forward and in good conscience do what is right for our shareholders, all one point seven million.”
There was no reaction. Looking to his right, the Chairman noted Drexel and Joachim waiting patiently at their extended virtual table. Their time to speak would soon arrive, and then there was no telling what would happen.
“Well, then,” the chairman continued. “Two days ago I was contacted by Chindo Securities and offered an option to be acquired as part of a unique privatization scheme. The basic plan, of which you have already been sent a copy, is to create an acquisition fund owned by three parties. Our management investment fund, Chindo Pan Asia Investments, and a third investor with management rights that can, under certain conditions, be converted into a majority stake.”
Chairman Cao looked around the virtual boardroom. The only noticeable feedback was several unassuming coughs as members cleared their parched throats. Filter masks of the board members gleamed back from the small lights strategically placed throughout the room. “The third party is Aleph-Beta Leisure Industries,” Cao explained. “I am sure you recognize the name. Today, two Sentients are here to explain a plan put together by Chindo Securities...”
“Excuse me,” broke in Director Lopes. “I think we’ve either read this draft or sought the advice of our own Sentient council by now. Therefore, in order to save precious time, I move that we go directly to an initial round of questions.”
“I second the motion,” blurted several other directors in near unison. The chairman looked around carefully. Evidently the Chindo proposal would face its trial by fire sooner than expected. Peering toward Drexel and Joachim, Cao checked to see if they displayed any reaction. Both just nodded in agreement.
“Very well, then,” the Chairman huffed. “If there’s no objection by the Aleph-Beta representatives, the floor is open to an initial round of questions.”
The first question flag was raised by Director Paul Suzuki, a thin Asian with short brown hair, who oversaw the treasury and shareholder relations.
“I see you want to take Takahana private.”
“Yes,” Drexel acknowledged. “As already stated, there are three investment groups, one being the management fund.”
Suzuki scowled angrily. “All good, but Takahana is more than just a public company. The public markets in my opinion have provided us with access to capital, but I was a doctor when I joined and I believe our corporate goal is the benefit of the public. Profitable, yes, but there’s more to it than that. We save lives! Under your scheme, it seems the new focus will be the profits of a relatively small num
ber of equity investors? Do I have that right?”
“Here, here,” grumbled other voices in the room. Chairman Cao brought everyone to order using his invisible gavel. Slowly, calm reclaimed the room as everyone looked in front to see what would transpire next. Tempers were on edge.
Drexel stood up and bowed politely to the board. “You need not harbor such thoughts regarding private capitalization,” he explained. “While public entities are able to ensure a relatively steady ROI while contributing to the public good, do not assume private equity cannot accomplish the same. Our track record at Chindo is quite impressive, and I would be happy to share our data with you on this very point. But overall, I would stress that privatization will not cause disruption. No one will feel the company is narrowly focused on profit taking at the expense of employees or customers.”
For several moments there was silence. But it didn’t last long as Director Lopes stood up and gazed around the room with mild disbelief. Lopes was the Director of Research and Development, a very tall Peruvian wearing jeans and a matching rough hemp button down shirt. Clearly he wasn’t convinced and sought others who shared his animosity.
“I’m unconvinced!” he said in a shrill voice. “While the plan put before us is fairly clear and appears interesting from a financial perspective, its true intent is ambiguous at best. Aleph-Beta may be reputable. However, it’s clear you have no presence in the Nano-Pharmaceutical industry. So please, explain exactly what you want with us?”
Drexel answered in a calm yet confident voice. “As we have stated in the preliminary bid proposal, Aleph-Beta has proven experience growing large enterprise value. Though not a player in your industry, Aleph can use diverse cross-industry knowledge to leverage Takahana’s...”
“Yes, all quite fascinating!” interrupted the director. “But if I may be blunt, I am more interested in the unwritten intent – once you take control, that is.” Drexel considered several strategic modes before speaking. “I can sense your concern over the transfer rights. Allow me to...”